Crash and Burn
by pdb
Summary: We all may crash and burn. sometimes, all we need is intervention MSR COMPLETE
1. Promising Future

Title: Crash and Burn

Author: PixieDustBunny

Beta: jd Burns

Disclaimer: as if you didn't already know

Category: Spiritual/Tragedy/Romance

Summary: Sometimes, we all need a little celestial intervention.

Timeline: Probably about season eight, but it's based on Scully's flashbacks from season nine

about the IVF. It is about two weeks after Scully asked Mulder to be the sperm donor for her

baby. Neither of them have admitted their feelings, even to themselves.

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Scully busted into the office forty minutes later than her usually punctual self is. Mulder looked up from the case file was casually flipping through. Scully smiled expectantly and looked excitedly at Mulder. Mulder, though, just smiled at her, not sure where her cheery demeanor was coming from.

"What is it, Scully?"

Scully tried hard to maintain her usually cool attitude, but she could not help but giggle. Mulder laughed at hearing this sound erupt from within her.

"What?" he persisted.

"I got the test results back!" she said, finally regaining her cool, calm exterior.

It was Mulder's turn now, to stare expectantly. "And..." he urged.

"I'm pregnant."

Mulder hugged Scully, though he had this almost uncontrollable urge to kiss her. Yet, Mulder subdues this and then pulls her away from him so that he catches her eyes. "So it worked?"

Scully nodded. Mulder hugged her again. They finally sat down in their seats and Scully pulled out a file. "These are the test results. After all, I was not infertile. You were right. The only problem was the absence of eggs."

Mulder smiled, "Congratulations, Scully. You are going to be a mom."

"Congrats, yourself. Don't forget, you *are* the dad."

"I know, but I am really happy for you. I know you wanted this really bad. Especially since everything happened with Emily."

Scully smiled fondly yet sadly at the memory of her daughter. After a moment of silence, Scully spoke. "I want you to know how much I appreciate you being the donor, Mulder. I couldn't've picked a better man."

"If you think I'm this good already, wait till I show you now I *really* perform..." Mulder said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

For the comment, Mulder received the classic, unmistakable Scully eyebrow. Mulder pretended not to notice as he always did.

"Anyway," Scully continued, "The baby is due in about nine months, give or take a week. I uhh.." she hesitated, "I want you to be there."

"Of course I'll be there," Mulder replied, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "I wouldn't miss it for anything." Mulder smiled warmly at Scully as she returned the gesture. Then, almost automatically, both agents turned their attention to the case at hand.

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A/N: okay, i actually already have this whole story planned out. i only need one thing...reviews!!! 


	2. Here is the Future

chapter two: pregnancy

a/n: okay, i really didn't want to write about the whole nine months of Scully's pregnancy because that is not what this story is about. so instead, i'm going to write about the pivotal points of the pregnancy. So this chapter covers a nine month span. anyway, let's see how you like this. oh and the words in ~ ~ are how far along in the pregnancy Scully is.

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~~two weeks~~

Scully and Mulder sat in their office filling out paperwork. Scully shifted in her chair for the fourth time this morning. Mulder looked up from his computer.

"You okay?" he asked.

Scully nodded. Five minutes later, Scully ran out of the office. Mulder followed her, even though she went into the ladies' bathroom. Scully then proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach. Mulder held her hair out of her way and rubbed her back. Finally, she sat back on the floor in front of the toilet. Mulder handed her a wet paper towel.

"No...more...coffee." she sputtered.

"You'll be okay," Mulder reassured as he walked her back to the office.

~~two months~~

Scully walked into the basement late. She had a disgusted look on her face. She sighed loudly when Mulder did not look up from the file in his hand.

"Good morning, Scully."

"hmph!"

"What's the matter? Are you feeling sick today?"

"I'm getting fat."

"What?! You're not fat!" Mulder exclaimed as he pulled his legs from their resting place on his desk.

"I didn't say I *am* fat. I *said* I'm *getting* fat." Scully said grumpily.

"Scully, you're pregnant. It's not fat."

"Whatever. I can't fit into any of my clothes." 

"Well, that's supposed to happen, Dr. Scully. But your suit looks fine to me." he said, looking her up and down.

"Look, Mulder!" she unbuttoned her blazer to reveal her pants, which were not even zipped up. 

Mulder chuckled. Scully found no humor in the situation. "It's not funny."

"No, you're right. It's cute."

Scully gave Mulder the eyebrow.

"You'll just have to go shopping for maternity clothes, that's all."

~~three months~~

Mulder took Scully to her obstetrician's appointment. Today the doctor would be able to tell the sex of the baby. Mulder held the door open for her, guiding her by the small of her back. Mulder signed her in. He then took his seat next to Scully, picking up a Parenting magazine. Scully gave him a funny look.

Mulder looked up from his magazine, "What?"

"Parenting Magazine?"

"I gotta know how to do something, right?"

Scully laughed. They sat in comfortable silence in the sterile waiting room. As the nurse called Scully back, Mulder followed. She lied on the table and lifted her shirts so that the nurse could apply the petroleum jelly for the ultrasound.

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" Nurse Keller asked. Scully nodded. "It looks like you are having a little baby boy!"

Scully looked at Mulder; he squeezed her hand.

"Mulder, what do we name him?"

~~four and a half months~~

Scully and Mulder sat on her couch. Scully was flipping through a baby names book. Mulder's head was resting on the back of the couch. He was staring at the ceiling.

"What about Michael?"

"No."

"Charles?"

"No."

"George?"

"No way!" Mulder laughed.

"What's wrong with George?"

"The kid will spend all of his school in the nurse's office."

Scully sighed. "Then what about Andrew?"

"No."

Scully paused for a moment, and then shut the book. "Fox!"

"What?"

"The name! Why don't we name him Fox?"

"Scully, *I* don't like the name and it's mine!"

"What about William? And his middle name could be Fox."

Mulder shrugged.

"It fits, Mulder. Your middle name is William and our dads are both Williams. And William Fox has a nice ring to it."

"Okay."

"Okay. Then it's settled. William Fox Mulder."

~~seven months~~

"Scully? Are you home?" Mulder asked tentatively as he opened the door.

"I'm in here!" she called from the extra bedroom.

"What are you doing?" 

"What color do you like, blue or yellow?"

"Yellow. But you can't paint the room."

"I know, but you can." she smirked, finally turning around to face him. Mulder sighed.

"Did you pick out the baby furniture yet?"

"Yes, I like the light brown set. White's too, hospital-like."

~~eight months, three weeks~~

Scully answered the door. "I hope you brought ice cream."

Mulder smirked and held up a brown bag. He laid his leather jacket across Scully's desk chair and heads for the freezer. "What movie did you pick?" Scully yelled after him.

"Your favorite."

"City of Angels?" she smiled expectantly.

Mulder laughed, "Caddyshack II." Scully glared at him. "Just joking, I got a chick flick."

"Which one?"

"I don't know. Something about green tomatoes."

"Fried Green Tomatoes?" she smiled.

"Yeah, that's it." Mulder walked out of Scully's kitchen, each hand holding a bowl of ice cream and a movie tucked under his left arm. Scully grabbed one of the bowls and began to eat. Mulder put the movie in the VCR and sat next to Scully on her couch. Then, it began.

"Oww." Scully groaned as she clutched her basketball-sized stomach.

"You okay?" Mulder asked, concerned.

"I think." Scully paused and looked him in the eye.

"What?"

"My water broke."


	3. The Future Has Gone

chapter three***FAVORITE CHAPTER ALERT***

a/n: okay, i must warn those who cry easily....get out your tissues, this is a tearjerker!!!

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"Good afternoon, Dr. Scully. How are we feeling today?" Dr. Rebecca Pierre greeted Scully, who looked up and tried to smile through her concentrated breathing.

"Not too bad," Scully replied as Mulder squeezed her hand and they caught each other's eyes, thousands of silent words exchanged in a matter of seconds.

"Good, good. Now, have you decided whether or not you want painkillers? We can do an epidermal if you want one."

"No, I don't want anything."

Dr. Pierre smiles, "Okay, well, if the pain becomes unbearable, there is nothing wrong with changing your mind."

"I know."

"Okay, well let's have a look to see if you are dilated, shall we?" Dr. Pierre said as she snaps on a pair of latex gloves. "Well, you seem to be only two centimeters dilated, so we have a ways to go. I'm going to do an ultrasound to see how your baby is doing. Now, have you decided on a name, yet?"

Scully nodded as Dr. Pierre applied the petroleum jelly to Scully's stomach. "We named him William Fox."

Dr. Pierre nodded. She removed the hand piece from the ultrasound machine, moving it over Scully's greased belly. Mulder thought it looks like a price scanner from the grocery store. He smiled at the thought, reminding himself to tell Scully later.

"Now, as I told you a couple months ago, the amniotic fluid level is lower than normal. Fortunately, though, the levels have remained constant."

"You said this restricts my baby's movements, increasing the risk of the umbilical cord wrapping around his neck, what does it look like now?" Scully asked, immediately changing into doctor mode.

"Well, this line on the screen is the cord. Right now, it seems to be okay. During the birthing process, though, I will methodically monitor its location. If it gets any closer, we will have to perform a C-section."

Scully nodded, taking in all of this information. Her mind was working fast as she weighed all of the possibilities. 

"Also, we could just go ahead and perform a cesarean section. Your recovery time would be longer. I don't think that the risk is large enough for this to be necessary, but it's up to you."

Scully looked up at Mulder, who smiled encouragingly, as if to say, 'whatever you want to do.' Scully turned to Dr. Pierre. "I would like to try to deliver him."

Dr. Pierre nodded knowingly, "That's what I thought. Well, about every forty-five minutes I'll have my assistant, Nurse Mark Thompson, do an ultra sound."

"If the cord does become any tighter, at all, I want to have surgery."

"Understood. Now, as I said, you have a ways to go. You need to be at least eight centimeters dilated. I want to see if you can stick it out until nine centimeters, but we'll just see how it goes. I'll be back in about twenty minutes to see how you are doing."

Scully smiled, and as Dr. Pierre left the room, she turned to Mulder. "You scared?" 

Mulder just smiled, "No. Are you?"

Scully's eyes flickered for a moment as she glanced at the floor. "A little."

"I'm not the one passing a nine-pound kid out of my ass."

Scully smiled, "Yeah, I don't think you could handle it."

"I guess we'll never know."

They sunk into comfortable silence: Mulder watching Scully and Scully watching the machine as the graph jumps up and down methodically. Mulder absently stroked Scully's hand with his thumb as Scully rubs her stomach with her other hand. After what seemed like only five minutes, Dr. Pierre returned.

"I want to see if you've dilated anymore. This will give me a rough estimate of when you'll be fully dilated."

Scully nodded.

After a minute, Dr. Pierre spoke. "Well, you haven't changed much. Are you starting to feel the contractions?"

"They aren't as bad as I expected."

Dr. Pierre laughed, "That's what most first-time mothers say. I promise, they will come much harder and much more painful. Do you want something to induce labor?"

Scully shook her head, "I want this to be a natural birth."

"Okay, well, there are natural forms of inducement. Walking tends to shift the baby into the birth canal, forcing your body to dilate to accommodate the change. We want to wait, though, until we can monitor the changes in the umbilical cord and such. So, let's say, at about five or six centimeters, if you want to induce William, you can walk the corridors of the hospital."

Scully nodded. Dr. Pierre smiled, and then left as Mark Thompson entered.

"I'm here to do another ultra-sound."

"Okay," Scully replied. After watching the screen for a few minutes, Mark spoke up again, "No change in the umbilical cord. Looks good."

The next four hours went by slowly, and increasingly painfully, for Scully. Every so often Nurse Thompson or Dr. Pierre came, either monitoring the baby's movement or measuring the change in dilation of Scully. Mulder, soon bored with this dull routine and after flipping through all of the six month old magazines, paced the room. He was restless, but not as restless as Scully herself.

Dr. Pierre came in for what seemed like the fiftieth time. "Okay, Dr. Scully, if you would like, I 

recommend walking around for forty-five minutes to an hour. Are you up to it?"

"If it will speed things along."

Mulder walked next to Scully, whose labored breathing was becoming heavier. They walked in silence, Scully concentrating on every step; Mulder staring at the ceiling.

"Hey Scully, wanna race?"

Scully glared at Mulder, who merely shrugged. "Just a thought."

Finally, after walking for forty-five minutes and lying in her hospital bed for another thirty minutes, 

Scully was ready to deliver. 

Dr. Pierre snapped on a new pair of latex gloves and situated herself in front of Scully. "Okay, this is the last chance for you to change your mind about the C-section. I don't see any need for it, though."

"I want to keep going."

"Okay, then. Another contraction is coming, ,so when I tell you to, I want you to push as hard as you can. Okay? You can do this, Dana."

The labor was short, especially compared to the long wait since they came to the hospital earlier that evening. 

"Okay, Dana, you're doing good. Good. Okay, here comes the last contraction. Your baby is on his way. I can see his head. Dad, do you want to see your baby?"

Mulder vehemently shook his head.

Dr. Pierre laughed. "Okay, Dana, On the count of three, push. One...Two...Three."

Scully grunted as she pushed with all her might. Her eyes welled up in pain, but she did not falter. Finally, she could feel the sudden release as the doctors grabbed the baby. Scully sighed and looked up expectantly, needing the first glance of her baby. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

There was no crying. Only the bustle of doctors. Scully's eyes filled with fear. Her frantic questions went unanswered. The doctors, now there are three of them instead of only one, were otherwise occupied. Scared, stinging tears flowed down her face. Her fatigue was ignored as her motherly concern overcame her entire being. She looked at Mulder, searching for answers on his face. He did not know any more than she did. 

He squeezed her hand encouragingly and ran his hand over her sweaty forehead and over her sweaty, sticky hair. He did not know what else to do.

"What's wrong?!" Scully shouted, reminding the doctors of her presence. They merely turned back to the object of their interest, the object of Scully's affection. A few minutes later a nurse turned to Dr. Pierre. "We lost him."

"NO!" Scully yelled as Dr. Pierre slowly trudged over to Scully, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the news she bore.

"I'm sorry, Dana. We lost him," Dr. Pierre whispered, repeating the words of the nurse. Scully's face twisted in anguish. She fought, though she did not know what against. She lied silent, still. Mulder, still holding her hand, turned away, hiding from the other people in the room and giving Scully privacy. Finally, she worked up the courage to ask the question, "What happened?"

"The cord, it must have constricted as he entered the birth canal. There was nothing anyone can do," as if the last words could console the woman who was only a mother for a brief minute.

Scully cried. She wept for her baby. She wept for herself. She wept for Mulder. [oh God, Mulder. I let you down.] For a minute, she forgot her own pain. She felt a new pain- guilt. Guilt for how she made Mulder feel. Guilt for letting her baby die. 

"Can I hold him." Scully stated, rather than asked. Dr. Pierre warily conceded as Nurse Thompson brought over a bundle wrapped in a crisp blue and white hospital blanket. Scully held him close to her. She held his little hand between her thumb and index finger. The perfect baby, the one she was never meant to have, and never will have, lied blue and motionless in her arms. 

Scully memorized his face. His little button nose sat between two puffy cheeks. His black eyelashes protected the eyes that would never open. His soft hair sat on his head like a blonde cloud.

Mulder turned toward Scully, just enough so he could see the baby, his baby, out of the corner of his eye. His face is squinched in tears as he watched Scully hold William. Finally, Mulder reached out to run one of his long, rough fingers down the baby's nose. Scully and Mulder avoided each other's glances, afraid to share this last moment with their child. 

Scully sighed a quivering sigh as she lifts William and handed him back to Dr. Pierre, who solemnly took him out of the room. The two adults, who came in this room expecting to leave as parents, were left alone, their dreams ripped at the seams. When they leave, they will leave empty-handed. They will leave without their child. They will leave without each other.

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a/n: i hope i got you crying! i almost cried. anyway, if you only review one chapter out of all of my 

stories, this is the one to review. tell me if they were in/out of character, if you cried. did i surprise

you? do you want another chapter? was this good/bad? should i throw my writing pad out the window? +sigh+

either way, review.


	4. Will there be a Future?

a/n: sorry i've taken forever to update this...I've been busy with New Beginnings (is it a plug if you post

it on one of your other stories?) Anyway, hope this was worth the wait!

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The doctor discharged Scully from the hospital the next day. Mulder drove Scully to her apartment. The ride was silent, but the aftertaste of death clung in the air around them. Mulder pulled into Scully's parking lot and shifted the car into park. He opened the trunk and pulled out Scully's overnight bag. He left the baby carrier in the trunk and slammed the door. Still, Mulder and Scully avoided eye contact and remained quiet. Scully walked ahead of Mulder as the went to her apartment door. When she had just put the key in the door, she slowly spun around to Mulder, staring at his feet. 

"I think I'd rather be alone right now," Scully uttered.

Mulder studied her face, hoping to find evidence otherwise. He nodded and left her apartment. Scully pulled her suitcase in behind her just enough so that she could close the door, locking it behind her. She broke into tears as soon as the lock clicked beneath her fingers. 

She managed to find her way onto her couch, her tears turning into sobs. The sobs shook her body, but she did not take notice. Scully made no attempt to quiet her cries and began to hyperventilate. Then, just as soon as her tears began, they stopped. She sat bolt upright, her head cocked to the side, listening. She heard something. It sounded like...like a crying baby. She knew she must be hallucinating, but she could not help but listen. Then it came again. Scully jumped up, running to what should have been the nursery. The crying stopped. She spun around in a circle. She sighed. Scully did not understand why she was having these hallucinations, but she was certain that it was all in her mind.

Scully thought she should get some rest. She walked into her bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. She fumbled for a T-shirt and, after changing, collapsed into bed. In the state between awake and asleep, the sound came again. She opened her eyes and sat up, searching in the darkness for the apparition she expected. Nothing. The cries became louder. Scully turned on the stereo, drowning out the cries with classical music. The cries increased still in volume. 

Scully screamed, "STOP IT!" 

The sound left, only to return five minutes later. Scully turned up her stereo until the bed vibrated. Still, she could hear the crying. It would not stop. She sat up and flipped on the lamp next to her bed. She swung her feet over onto the cool hardwood floors and padded into the bathroom. 

Her shaking hands fumbled with the childproof cap. Finally, Scully managed to retrieve and swallow two sleeping pills. Then, Scully walked through her bedroom and into the living room. She flipped her desk light on and rummaged through the drawers until she found the small package containing two earplugs. Through all of this, the disembodied cries haunted her. Soon, her scared cries matched them. With unstable hands, she inserted the foam earplugs and stumbled back into her bedroom. Her forgotten stereo vibrated the bed, lulling her to sleep, into which she sank willingly. The cries, though, stayed with her until she fully fell asleep. The unmuffled cries came from within Scully, a sick creation of her emotionally strained soul.

.xXx.

Mulder was hurt that Scully did not want him to be with her. He drove home in a daze. As he stepped out of the elevator and to his apartment door, he let out a choked sob. Mulder fumbled with his keys and stumbled into his apartment, barely shutting the door behind him. Tears streamed down his face as his body, overcome with suppressed sobs, sank into the doorframe entering his living room. Mulder sat there, his lanky body crumbled in grief, for a good twenty minutes. Finally, he managed to stand up and stumble over to his desk.

He struggled to open the left drawer of his desk, jammed with too many papers. After tossing the papers onto his floor, he retrieved what he had been searching for-his old photo album. He had not looked through it since before he had gone to save Scully from Antarctica. It must have slipped his mind. Through his tears, he flipped through the pages of him as a young child. He smiled as memories flooded back. As he turned the page, his eyes locked on a picture of him at about four years old. He was holding Samantha; she was just a newborn. His mouth curved slightly into a sad smile, then he frowned. His sadness turned to anger, his anger to rage. 

Mulder slammed the book shut, tossing it angrily back into the drawer. [why can't I have a baby now?]He yelled a barbaric grunt. The anger seemed to much to bottle up in one man's body. He searched for something on which to place his anger. He grabbed the lamp off his desk, yanking the cord out of the wall and leaving him in complete darkness. Mulder hurled the lamp across the room, listening to the ceramic crash into a hundred pieces as it slammed against a wall. 

"WHY? What the fuck did I do?" Mulder boomed. "I don't deserve this, GOD!" 

He blamed God. "Is it because I don't go to church? Is it such a fucking big deal?" 

He blamed William. "Why couldn't you have just been born alive? I don't understand. It can't be that hard to do!"

He blamed Scully. "Why ask me to help you when you are the one to mess the damn thing up! This is your fault, Scully. I didn't do this. Why won't you talk to me about it. I didn't do anything!"

He blamed THEM. "Like you don't already cause enough fucking pain in Scully's and my lives. Leave us the fuck alone. The one joy, the one indulgence we make, and you have to screw us over."

He blamed himself. "You sorry sonuvabitch! You should have been there. You should have told her that it was all right to take the medicine, that it would not make her weak in your eyes. ASSHOLE!"

The rage filled him, his eyes turned a dark, stormy color Mulder spun around and punched the wall on his left. A picture fell off of the wall from the vibrations his fist caused as it collided with the wallboard. He pulled his bloodied fist out of the hole he made, cursing. Once again, he collapsed on the floor. Deep down, he did not blame anybody. For once, he didn't even blame himself. He propped himself up, leaning against his couch. He remained like that for the rest of the night, staring at the hole in the wall.

a/n: I hope this portrayed the emotions that Mulder and Scully felt. I hope Mulder and Scully were in-character, too. 

Review, please! 


	5. With you, My Child, I bury my Heart

Ever since that night, it seemed like the world stood still but not in the good way when two people are in love. Rather, it was the slowing down of the clocks that seems to occur when one is getting a shot or must sit through an exceptionally boring lecture. No, this was not pleasant at all. It would make any woman with less self-control than Scully and any man with less pain than Mulder scream in frustration and anguish. Alas, Mulder and Scully are the ones who must bear this burden.  
  
The loss completely altered, if not destroyed, Mulder and Scully's relationship. They seemed to lose touch with each other. They even lost touch with themselves. When both of them returned to work, only two days after their son's birth, they made no reference to William whatsoever. Scully ignored Mulder's bandaged fist; Mulder ignored Scully's disheveled look. Anybody on the street could tell that both Mulder and Scully were in pain, except Mulder and Scully.  
  
The strained relationship spilled over into their work. Mulder barely acknowledged the case they were working on, and Scully did not offer any scientific explanation. Mulder was not even clear on what the case was about. Something concerning bright lights and mutilated bodies. He did not know, and he did not care. Scully, on the other hand, was even more of a shadow that Mulder. She just attended the crime scenes. She did not offer to do an autopsy, and when an officer suggested she do so, she just shrugged.  
  
Physically, the pain was taking its toll. Mulder tried to drown his sorrows in vodka, so he cringed at every loud sound, which reverberated through his head. Both their faces had a sallow look; their eyes becoming dark pools of nothingness on a ashen face. Scully stopped taking care of her body. She stopped "putting on her face," making no attempts to cover the dark circles that hung under her eyes. Her suits stopped matching. To anyone observing the two, the scene was ridiculous. Logically, the two mourners would take comfort in each other. That would be the normal thing to do. But Scully and Mulder rarely did anything normal.  
  
The two had dealt with death in the past. As Mulder sat staring at the case file, he wondered why this was so different. It was the first death that had connections to both Mulder and Scully. Maybe they were not strong enough to set aside their own feelings to help one another. In a way, Mulder thought, they were kind of self-centered. But really, they were just scared. Neither of them knew how to deal with the situation.  
  
Three days after they had both returned to work, Mulder and Scully had their first substantial conversation in almost a week.  
  
"Mulder?" Scully asked tentatively.  
  
"Hmm?" Mulder responded from behind the ever-present case file.  
  
"I want to have a funeral for William," she said. This was the first reference to William since his death.  
  
"Of course. You should have a funeral. It's only right," Mulder said, and while he seemed genuine, his words were obviously obligatory.  
  
"I want you to come," she stated frankly.  
  
Mulder sighed. After a minute, he replied, "I will."  
  
The cold, matter-of-fact tone of the room would make any observer scream in frustration. Mulder and Scully downright refused to admit that this was a situation to mourn.  
  
"Father McCue said that we could have it on Sunday," she said.  
  
"This Sunday?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Okay."  
  
On Sunday, Scully picked up Mulder at his apartment, and together they headed to the church. Scully brought with her three large, framed photographs of William. The pictures had been taken shortly after delivery. The nurses had cleaned up William, dressed him in the customary blankets, and photographed him, all post mortem. The pictures were quite beautiful. William looked like he was just sleeping. He looked angelic. Scully swallowed hard as she spaced the pictures in the church.  
  
Mulder took his seat next to Scully, and they sat in silence as peopled filed into the church. Scully was awoken from her trance as the funeral mass began.  
  
The congregation stood to sing as the tiny coffin was brought in by Charles and William Scully. For such a little coffin, even two pallbearers seemed excessive. Charlie and Bill, by which they were better known, placed the coffin in the front of the church and took their seats in the row of pews next to Mulder and Scully. Maggie Scully sat next to Scully in silence, rubbing Scully's shoulder ever so often. Finally, Father McCue stood before the congregation.  
  
"We are gathered today to mourn the loss of a young life, William Fox Mulder. His time on life was short, though we know that he is with his Father, Our Lord in Heaven. Let us bow our heads and pray for the young soul."  
  
The congregation bowed their heads. A few sniffled. The rest of the service was similar to a regular Mass. Mulder had been to a Mass with Scully only once before. He just sat, stood, and kneeled with the rest of the people. He was not paying too much attention to the whole ceremony. Suddenly Mulder realized that Scully was holding her hand out to him. He took it nervously into his own, not knowing why he was holding it. Then the whole congregation began reciting the Our Father. Mulder did not know all of the words, but he mumbled along with the rest of the people.  
  
As Scully let go of Mulder's hand, Father McCue looked around the church and said, "Now let us offer each other the sign of Christ's peace."  
  
Scully turned to Mulder and sadly smiled as she offered her hand to shake. Mulder looked down at her hand, frowning, and embraced her in a solemn hug. As he held her, Mulder felt Scully crumble in his arms. She let her guard down as her emotions spilled over. Mulder kissed her hair softly as they let go of each other. Father McCue walked over to their pew, shaking Maggie's hand, then Scully's, and finally Mulder's.  
  
Mulder once again let his mind drift during Communion as the Catholics present shuffled up to the priest. Ten minutes later, Mulder watched as his son was carried away. Mulder stood by Scully and her mother as swarms of friends came to offer their condolences. The only people he recognized were his boss and the Lone Gunman.  
  
Next, Mulder found himself walking to the black limousine with Scully and her family. It would follow the hearse to the graveyard. William's burial site only came up once in Mulder's conversation with Scully. She asked if they could bury him on her family's plot. He shrugged, and that was that.  
  
So, they pulled up to an already-dug grave near Melissa Scully's tombstone. William's tombstone read:  
William Fox Mulder  
March 22, 2001-March 22,2001  
"Never give up on miracles"  
  
Mulder reached for Scully's hand as they stood before the empty grave. As he caught sight of the inscription on the tombstone, he glanced at Scully and squeezed her hand. Before they lowered the coffin, Scully walked over and opened it, getting one last look at her son. She removed the cross from around her neck and placed it between the baby's hands. They lowered the coffin into the grave.  
  
Scully and Mulder stood by the grave long after everyone had left. Their son came. Their son left. The space between was too short. 


	6. Sparks that Started the Burning

Crash and Burn 6

One might assume that after such a touching ceremony, the tension between the two would have dissipated. Then again, assumptions are often wrong.

The week after the funeral seemed to drag its feet. Scully could have sworn that the clocks had stopped. Had she shared this thought with Mulder, he would have laughed and attributed time loss to an alien presence. That is, if things were different between the two. 

They say that a parent's loss of a child is the worst kind of grief. Naturally, a child losing its parent is easier to bear, for biologically the older person (namely, the parent) will die first. (Not to belittle any kind of loss whatsoever.) The loss of a spouse or sibling is harder still. But the loss of a child, watching one's creation crumble in one's hands, is pure anguish.

As Scully watched the digital clock in the basement office click to 4:59 on Friday evening, she practically made a mad dash out of the office, sweeping up her belongings on the way. Mulder had been too busy staring at his blank computer screen to notice, though he probably would not have even noticed if he had been staring straight at her. As Scully entered the world beyond the Hoover Building, she stood on the sidewalk, watching the world move before her, literally gasping. The tension in the basement was so thick, it was suffocating. She inhaled like after being held under water. She trudged to her car, drove home, and crashed on the couch.

Mulder, as if snapping out of a trance, looked around the office as if it were the first time he had seen it. He realized Scully had left. Immediately following their return to work, despite the strain on their relationship, they had managed the obligatory manners. They greeted each other when coming or going. Mulder would even drop a cup of coffee on her desk in the morning. One day, Scully walked in with a bag of sunflower seeds for Mulder, mumbling something about a sale. But somehow between then and now, all courtesy left them. They did not hate each other, mind you. Nor were they mad at each other. Just depressed in their own right.

As Mulder sat analyzing their relationship (as his psychologist self often did, however subconsciously) he wondered if their relationship would ever be what it was before William. When Scully was pregnant, they were so happy. Mulder sighed, the loss heavy on his shoulders. Mulder locked up and left, though he hated the thought of spending his weekend it the lonely apartment.

*************

Mulder lasted until 2 o'clock on Saturday afternoon. He had to see Scully. The old need to be with her was ingrained in him. He wanted to see her, but he knew better than to just show up. Mulder tried to ignore the urge. As usual, though, his urge eventually got the better of him. 

Mulder decided to bring her dinner, which was at least three hours away, being as it was early afternoon. He had a lot of time to kill. He tapped his hands on his thighs, looking around his apartment for something to occupy his time. 

As Mulder took in the sight of his apartment, a scowl formed on his lips. It was disgusting. Clothes and papers strewn everywhere. The mess from his rage the night he punched the wall covered his black couch like snow. Somehow, the knowledge that he would see Scully (and the hope that it would be like it used to) gave Mulder the courage to tackle his apartment. 

Two and a half hours later, Mulder stood up to view his work and smiled. The living room looked as it had a month ago. Not clean, per say, but "Mulder clean." He decided he needed a shower and a good shave. He had not shaved since Wednesday, and it showed. After hopping out of the shower and dressing in his favorite pair of jeans and one of his many gray t shirts, he called their favorite Chinese place and ordered food to be delivered to Scully's apartment. He figured he'd be there before the delivery man.

En route to Scully's apartment, though, Mulder decided he needed to bring beer and a movie, so he turned into Blockbuster and looked for a chick flick with no mention of babies whatsoever, which was not an easy task. After reading the back of almost fifty DVDs, Mulder chose and paid for _Serendipity_. Then he swung by the closest liquor, which was not all that close, and bought a cold six pack of light beer. Mulder finally arrived at his destination, Scully's apartment building.

When he stepped out of the elevator, he found Scully wearily arguing with a delivery man.

"I'm sorry, I'm the only one here and nobody ordered Chinese food. There must have been a mix up."

"You like sesame chicken?" the Chinese man asked.

"Yes, but I didn't- "

"Then buy it," the delivery man interrupted.

"But I didn't order it," Scully repeated.

"That's mine," Mulder said as he scooped up the food, handed the delivery man a twenty dollar bill, and ushered Scully into the apartment all in one fluid motion.

Scully looked confused and somewhat annoyed. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Movie night?" Mulder sheepishly shrugged as he jiggled his Blockbuster bag for affect. "It's a chick-flick."

Scully sighed and let him follow her into the living room. She spun around, "Why are you here?"

Mulder's mind raced with possible answers 'I need you.' 'I miss you.' 'I want things to be the way they were.' 'I'm hurting.' Finally, he decided on, "We need to talk."

Scully visibly collapsed, defeated, as she fell onto the couch. "WRONG ANSWER!" Mulder's mind yelled.

"I….don't….want….to….talk." Scully enunciated every word.

"We have to talk," Mulder said. Once you start this, you cannot go back.

"No Mulder, I think you've done enough," Scully said through gritted teeth.

"What? What are you talking about? Do you actually blame this on me?!" Mulder asked, incredulous.

"Well?" Scully answered, waving her arm to enunciate her point.

"You blame the death of _our_ son on me? What the hell did I do?!" 

"No," Scully paused. When she spoke again, her voice was loud and laced with pent-up rage. "I blame _everything_ on you. My sister, my abduction, my lack of credibility, my cancer, my barrenness. This is just icing on the cake!"

Mulder fumed. How dare she! "I didn't make you stay, Scully!" he spat her name. "I didn't _shoot _your sister. I didn't _steal_ your credibility. I didn't toss you into that space ship, and I sure as hell didn't take your ova. As for your cancer, I found the cure. So don't act so fucking arrogant as to blame every tragedy in your life on me. I _never_ held you hostage. I didn't even ask you to stay!" His voice booming, he stopped to breathe. Scully jumped in.

"No! But you- " Mulder quickly interrupted her.

"And you were the one who opted for natural birth not me. You should blame yourself."

Scully stood, mouth open, as Mulder left what he brought and walked quickly and silently out of the apartment, shutting the door securely.

It seemed as if they had reached their lowest point.

A/N: I had to make them fight to make the next two chapters work. Don't hate me! The pinnacle chapter is next, so review and I'll write faster!


	7. Faith, Hope, Love

Crash and Burn 7

Stunned, Scully sank down onto her couch. She had blamed herself for William's death, but she never thought Mulder would. But not in a million years would she have ever blamed Mulder for any of it, either. She did not cry- not one tear. She just sat on her couch, staring at nothing for the rest of the night. She was too numb to sleep.

At six o'clock in the morning, Scully had had enough. She was restless. As she flew out the door, Scully grabbed her car keys and her jacket. As she slammed her car door in the morning darkness, she stared at the steering wheel; she had no idea where she was going. 

Throwing all of her Scully-caution to the wind, she drove to nowhere. An hour and a half later, she found herself parked in front of a beautiful church. The last thing she wanted to do was go into an institution whose main purpose seemed to be to pass judgement. As much as she liked Father McCue, she always felt 'less-than' around him. 

"But this isn't Father McCue's church," Scully reminded herself out loud. Slowly, Scully picked up her purse from the passenger's seat and walked up to the huge wooden doors of the church. Before opening the door, she read the inscription on the side of the church: 

"St. Francis of Assisi's Catholic Church

Est. 1953"

As she opened the door, she closed her eyes, taking in the smells of the old church. The musty smell of old books, people and incense. The only positive side of moving so much as a child was being able to attend so many old, wonderful churches. She stood reminiscing before stepping into the church. 

She absorbed the gorgeous familiarity of such a church, but as she traveled from the vestibule into the worship area, she soon discovered that this church was unlike any she had ever seen. The view was absolutely breath-taking. Behind a white marble altar stood a magnificent white Gothic castle. The castle had numerous towers, each with detailed windows. On each side stood a large statue of an angel holding a horn. In the center of the castle was the tabernacle. It was gold-plated and seemed to radiate light.

Scully, mouth open, looked above the castle at the mural on the wall. God, complete with a long beard and a scepter, sat in on a throne. At his right hand sat Jesus Christ. Scully gazed at each person in the mural, absently naming them as she went along. The Virgin Mary and her husband Joseph stood together on a far right panel. Another panel depicted the Apostles at the Last Supper.

As Scully slowly became aware of her surroundings beyond the mural before her, she noticed that people had quietly filed into the church. She glanced at her watch to find that it was almost eight o'clock on Sunday morning. The early morning mass was about to start. Scully stood still for a moment longer, debating whether to stay. As she searched the pews for an indiscreet corner, her eyes fell upon the balcony overhead. 

As silently as the others present in the church, she made her way to the stairwell and sat in a dusty seat hidden by the shadow of the immense organ behind it. She sighed. As she waited for mass to commence, Scully flipped through a missal. It had been so long since she had been to mass, with the exception of William's funeral.

Scully did not participate much in the mass; she mostly watched. Often, though, she would absently mumble responses that had been engrained in her mind as a child. As the priest and the altar servers walked ceremoniously out of the worship center, followed unceremoniously by the congregation, Scully stayed behind. Somewhere between communion and the closing prayer, Scully had taken out one of the only pictures she had of her son: an ultra sound picture. As she unfolded it, she noticed the wear on it. The creases were tinted orange from the developing chemicals and the edges were torn. A rebellious tear rolled down her cheek as she quickly, angrily swiped it away. 

Her attention was once again focused upon the scene before her. In front of the altar, at a marble font, a small crowd had formed. After watched the scene unfold, Scully realized that it was a baptism. She scooted closer and rested her head in her arms, which were folded along the wall of the balcony. Scully knew that her son would never have such a day. William's baptism had been a solemn affair, one that she would rather forget than live again. Just as her eyes welled up with more tears, a clearing throat behind her made Scully spin around.

"Oh, is it okay that I'm up here?" Scully asked.

The old lady Scully found before her smiled. Scully felt somewhat cleansed as the woman's smile traveled from her mouth to her eyes, radiating her entire being. "Of course."

Scully returned the smile as she took in the sight before her. The lady looked quite old, maybe eighty or eighty-five. Fine, wonderful wrinkles traveled all over her face. She sat in a wheelchair, but Scully noticed that the woman was still well-dressed; her calf-length blue dress looked new, albeit a little out of fashion. Despite the rest of her appearance, her eyes looked alive with youth. It was the woman's eyes that Scully found incredibly intriguing and slightly mesmerizing. Scully felt that the world's great mysteries were all found in the woman's eyes. Ancient religions and philosophies believed that the eyes are the windows to a person's soul, and Scully felt that she could see right into the woman's. It must have been because the woman, unlike Scully, did not have walls built around her. Or, maybe not.

The woman wheeled herself over to Scully's seat. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked, concern seeming to flow out of her. 

Scully offered a weak smile. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, Scully just shrugged.

The woman patted Scully's hand knowingly, "I know it is hard to deal with the loss of a son."

Scully looked up, startled, "Did I tell you that my son died?"

The woman seemed to expect such a response, "Sometimes there is no need to say it aloud."

Scully was satisfied, though confused, with her reply.

"I lost my son early in life, as well," the woman confided.

Sympathy washed over Scully's face, "I'm terribly sorry."

"We all need to make sacrifices."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked.

  
"Sometimes, you must lose one thing in order to gain another," the woman ambiguously replied.

"How old was your son when he died?" Scully asked softly.

"Thirty-three. He died for his beliefs."  


Scully just nodded.

"You should not feel any guilt about William's death," the woman replied.

Scully did not question the woman's knowledge. Instead, her eyes filled with tears, "I can't help it."

"Just know that none of this was anyone's fault."

Scully nodded as she wiped away her tears.

"Dear, you have lost so much more than your son," the woman stated.

"I know," Scully replied, absently folding and unfolding her ultra-sound picture.

"In this world, you only need three things: faith, hope, and love," the woman spoke.

"I am afraid I've lost all three," Scully confessed.

"You have not lost love. Trust me, dear, your love is just wounded."

"We weren't selfish enough to deal with our own feelings before helping each other, so we ended up hurting each other even more," Scully said, referring to Mulder.

"It will come back. All you need is time and patience. Have hope," the woman spoke wisely.

"Do I have any left?" Scully asked.

The woman looked upon Scully with sagacity, "You have so much hope, Dana. You just need more courage to accompany it."

"Where do I find courage?"

"In love."

"I am afraid that, out of the three things I need, my faith is the worst." Scully confessed as her hand absently brushed against her bare chest where her cross once rested.

"That is why I came. I brought you this," the woman replied as she opened her gnarled, wrinkly hand to reveal a beautiful gold chain.

Scully held it up and examined the ovular pendant. "What is it?"

"It is called the Miraculous Medal. Dana, make a promise to me," the woman studied Scully's face as Scully shifted her attention from the necklace to the woman's face.

Scully nodded.

"Never give up on miracles."

Scully smiled in spite of herself. "Thank you. You have helped me so much. I think I have to go fix something."

The woman smiled as if she knew what Scully was going to say before she said it. As Scully made it halfway down the stairs, she realized that she had forgotten to ask the woman's name. She turned and ran back up the stairs, but the woman and her wheelchair were gone. Scully searched the balcony for an elevator exit, but there was none. And though Scully asked the priest about the woman, he said that he had never seen her. Scully turned to go; she knew the task before her. She would never forget the mysterious lady who had helped her discover the task.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x 

a/n: did you figure out who the woman was? Tell me by reviewing!!!


	8. Smouldering Embers

Chapter 8:  
  
If Scully's night had been bad after Mulder had stormed out of her apartment, his had been absolute hell. The horrible, cruel words that he flung at her were definitely not necessary. Or even fair. But, he tried to rationalize to himself, she knew that he always carried guilt for the pain that she has experienced since her assignment on the X Files.  
  
"That was a low blow," Mulder mumbled to himself as he realized he was steadily losing the battle against himself. Deep down, Mulder knew that he was wrong, but that did not make him say that Scully was right. "She wasn't."  
  
As Mulder realized the last place that he wanted to be was his lonely apartment, he made a quick detour at the next light, though, just like Scully would do later that morning, he had no idea where he was going.  
  
He found himself in front of the local YMCA. It had been such a random choice of activity, but suddenly, Mulder felt that swimming was the cure for all troubles. Then he laughed cynically at his own naivete. He grabbed his gym bag out of the back of his trunk and headed for the back of the old, musty building.  
  
He knocked on the glass wall that reflected the ripples in the pool. Mulder's old friend, Jacob put down his pool vacuum and waved at Mulder before opening the sliding door. Jacob, who had worked at the YMCA for over twenty years cleaning the pool, befriended Mulder shortly after Mulder had joined the FBI. He always let Mulder in for late night swims because the regular operating hours of the pool hardly fit into Mulder's schedule, even before the X Files.  
  
"I was 'bout to think you had left me, Fox," the old man drawled, pronouncing Mulder's name as two syllables.  
  
"No," Mulder laughed, "I guess I've just been busy. Do you mind if I.?" Mulder motioned to the pool.  
  
"Help yo'self. The south side locker rooms are still unlocked," Jacob replied.  
  
Mulder, donning a red Speedo, returned minutes later to find that Jacob had left. He was probably helping one of the other janitors sweep the gym floors. Mulder dove in the deep end of the pool. Even after so long, his form was perfect, albeit a little slower than normal. He was surprised to find himself out of shape. Mulder swam a dozen or so laps before stopping, then he stood up in waist-deep water and removed his goggles. As he saw a form in the darkened corners, his breath caught in his throat. It looked like a young girl.  
  
She stepped closer to Mulder, and he curiously walked to the edge of the pool where the young girl now stood. Mulder's heart ached as the illumination from a streetlight shown upon her face. The girl was eerily familiar.  
  
The girl, who could not have been older than five, smiled shyly at Mulder, while his mouth stood open in awe. "Emily?" Mulder meekly asked her, but the little girl just smiled her reply. Mulder skeptically reached out to touch her arm to see if she was indeed real. "Is.is that you, Emily?" Mulder asked yet again.  
  
She giggled an odd laugh and ran towards Jacob playfully, who had just returned to the pool area.  
  
"I see that you've met my grandbaby. This is Lori. Don't mind her rudeness, she can't hear you. She's a deaf an' dumb."  
  
"Oh," Mulder answered. He was relieved and disappointed at the same time. Seeing what he thought he saw conjured too many emotions and memories and heartache. He had to leave. "I'm, uh, gonna go. Thanks Jacob."  
  
"Don't be stranger!!"  
  
Mulder walked to the locker room he had first changed in and fumbled with his running shorts and a t shirt. After changing, he left. Again, he did not want to go home. He had to go somewhere. As he parked his car along side the park, he sighed. He had to do something to clear his head. Obviously, swimming let his mind wander too much to clear.  
  
Slowly, steadily, but with a determined expression, Mulder slowly sank into the life of normalcy, just like everyone else. He stepped into the crowd and for once, belonged to the crowd of lonely people that make up this world. He began to build up a rhythm and gained momentum.  
  
He ran. Running from something. Or to something. He did not know which, nor what that "something" was, but he did not care. While he broke out a sweat, his tears mixed into the similar saline solution because thoughts of Scully flooded back to him. Watching her face out of the corner of his eye as she learned that their son was a stillborn. Why did he sit silently by, not offering any words of comfort? Why didn't he hold her?  
  
He passed dozens of couples. Couples with babies, couples with dogs. The sight of them made the guilt that Mulder carried heavier upon his shoulders. One couple in particular, though, churned his stomach. Without realizing it, Mulder had stopped running, awed by the sight before him.  
  
It was an older couple, they must have been in their late seventies or early eighties. Gnarled and hunched over from age, they had to help each other walk through the park. The woman, who was obviously struggling more than her husband, walked with the guidance of a walker and her husband's guiding hands. The husband was not without his handicaps, though, for he walked with a slight limp in his leg.  
  
Mulder sat on a park bench and stared at his hands. "That's how it should be," he whispered. "I mean, we both have our own burdens to bear, but their easier to bear together," Mulder continued silently. "Just because I'm injured doesn't mean I am unable to administer to Scully's wound."  
  
As he trudged back to his car, his load seemed much less trying. When he reached his car, he even smiled. A single red rose rested on the windshield of his car. He had no idea who put it there, nor would he ever question it. It just was.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Author's Notes: One more chapter to go! And yes, thank you to all of the genius reviewers who guessed that it was the Virgin Mary. By the way, before any of you get to cocky (and turn into me), the old couple is just an old couple. The red rose is just my introduction to my favorite saint, St. Therese of Lisiuex (The Little Flower). Not that I'm that religious, but I am, after all, named after her!  
  
More Author's Notes: I dedicate the Red Speedo to all of my fellow shippers. Even in times of tragedy, the Red Speedo lives on! 


	9. Promising Future

Chapter 9

By the time Mulder had gotten across town to Scully's apartment building, it was close to eleven thirty. Try as he might to gather enough courage, he could not walk up to her apartment door, let alone out of his car. Sighing, he adjusted the rear view mirror so that he had a good view of his face. His weak, self-deprecating smile left on his face from his earlier self-pep talk, soon turned into a scowl as he caught his reflection.

To say the least, Mulder looked like hell. It was a wonder that the people in the park did not mistake him for a homeless man. Of course, I was not the only one in the park after ten o'clock. His hair was ridiculously disheveled, stuck to his head in some parts, while standing on end in others. He had forgotten to finger-brush his hair after he had gone swimming. His five o'clock shadow made him look dirty, and the sallow, hollow look in his eyes only reinforced that manner. The high chlorine concentration of the indoor pool gave a horrible, red tint to his already bloodshot eyes.

Knowing Scully and knowing himself, she would probably think that he had been drinking. He had to go home and take a shower. Anyway, he did not think that she would be exceptionally accepting to an apology made at midnight. She never did like his late night/early morning visits.

Twenty minutes later, a very emotionally exhausted Mulder trudged up the steps to his apartment on the fourth floor, ironically too lazy to take the elevator. He discarded his sweaty, dirty clothes as soon as he opened his apartment door, leaving a trail to his bathroom.

The pounding, hot water did wonders for his mood. By the time that he had gotten out of the shower, he felt more able to take on the task. As he sat down to tie his shoes, it hit him. He had no idea what to say to Scully. A simple "I'm sorry" seemed too trite. He sighed. He was at a complete loss.

He grabbed a pen and a yellow legal pad from his desk and made a list of everything that he wanted to correct.

It read:

__

Make Scully realize that I never blamed her.

Recognize her pain.

Show her my pain.

Take away her pain. 

Let go of the pain.

Give her everything she deserves.

Regain our friendship.

Tell her how much I love her.

Mulder paused, staring at the last line he wrote. "Tell her how much I love her," he said aloud. "Whoa," he fell back into the worn cushions of his couch. This put a whole new spin on their relationship. It was one more thing to deal with. 

Somewhere between this revelation and eight o'clock the next morning, Mulder fell asleep. With his head resting on the coffee table, sitting on the couch, Mulder was not in the most comfortable position. As streams of foreign sunlight poured through the slits, Mulder stirred.

Then he jerked awake. He was not supposed to fall asleep. He had wanted to go to her house first thing in the morning. Mulder squinted his eyes, trying to read the fuzzy face digital clock that sat on his little-used desk. It read 9:35 in neon green figures. He cursed under his breath. "The one time my insomnia fails me…"

Mulder brushed his teeth, threw on some clean clothes, and ran his hand through his hair before grabbing his keys and dashing out the door. He drove to her house in contemplative silence, glad that he had not forgotten the yellow pad of paper that now sat accusingly on the passenger seat. It almost dared him to reveal its precious contents to Scully. Mulder just subconsciously glared at the legal pad and continued down the tangling roads that led to her apartment. He pulled into the parking lot next to her apartment. Her car was nowhere to be seen. 

Mulder trudged up the stairs, ironically too lazy to take the elevator. He knocked on the door. Once. Twice. "Scully?" Thrice. No response. "Scully, I'm coming in," Mulder warned, clumsily sticking the key into the lock. He opened the door and looked around the dimly lit living room. The Blockbuster bag lay where he had dropped it the night before. 

After looking around the apartment, Mulder deftly concluded that Scully must have gone somewhere. He looked at his watch. It was only a few minutes after ten. He sat on her much cleaner, much nicer couch in defeat. He waited. She was probably just at…wherever she went on Sunday mornings. Mulder realized that he did not know what she did on this day of rest. That is, when Mulder let her rest and did not drag her to some crop circle that signified the middle of nowhere.

He made a note to ask her what she did on Sunday mornings.

Then he decided to wait for her to come back. She could not be gone too long, and she was bound to return sometime during the day, unless she went to her mother's house. Some force made Mulder's stomach drop, though he was not quite sure why. A dread filled his entire being, like…when had he felt this before?…like when his mother caught him doing something he knew better than to dare. 

At some point, Mulder had begun to regard Mrs. Scully as a motherly figure. Mulder shook his head fiercely, ridding himself of the thought. 

As if in agreement, his stomach growled. He remembered that he had exercised without eating. He was famished. He hoped that Scully had saved some of the Chinese food from last night. He grunted in satisfaction as he found the brown paper bag shoved haphazardly on the top shelf of Scully's refrigerator, but as he opened the bag and each of the subsequent boxes, he frowned. Scully had not even touched the food he brought. "Figures," he mumbled; it was just like Scully to forget to eat, much as Mulder himself did.

He grabbed the box of General Tso's Chicken and a small box of white rice. He grabbed a fork out of the right-hand drawer next to the fridge and made his way into the living room. Though he was not in the mood to watch television, he needed noise. He approached Scully's stereo system and pressed PLAY, not really caring what music blared out of the speakers. When it did begin, though, he was surprised to find himself listening to Aerosmith. He turned it low and reentered the kitchen, now bearing his food and the yellow legal pad. As he sat at Scully's kitchen table, he studied the pad in front of him. He rehearsed what to say.

At ten forty-five, Mulder was ready. He had finished his cold Chinese take-out and cleaned up the remnants of his meal, including the stray grains of rice that had undoubtedly fallen from his fork to the tabletop en route to his mouth. He knew exactly what he was going to say to her. He had stashed the yellow pad in his coat. Confidently, Mulder stood in front of Scully's front door, willing it to open. Five minutes he stood like this, grinning stupidly at the back of a door.

He frowned. This was not working. On a hunch, he dialed a not-so-familiar number. It rang once…twice… "Hello?"

********************************************************************************

After failing to determine the identity of the mysterious women in the balcony of St. Francis Xavier's Church, Scully left with wavering confidence…a woman on a mission. She drove to Mulder's apartment, easily shaving twenty minutes off the return trip. When she approached Mulder's door, though, her fist refused to obey her commands to make contact with the door. She sighed. 

Dana had been in such a rush to get to his door that she never stopped to ponder that maybe he would not answer the door. She knocked twice and waited. She did not hear him shuffling to the door. She placed her head closer to the door. She could not hear the water running. A feeble "Mulder?" followed her fourth knock. She quietly slipped the key into the lock so not to wake him, though no part of Scully believed for an instant that he was sleeping, or even there.

Scully proved herself correct, though she wished he were there. The anticipation and anxiety of coming face to face with him and the horrible letdown drained her of all of her energy. She fell back into his sunken leather couch.

"I'll just sit here for fifteen minutes and then I'll go home. If he isn't here, he probably isn't ready to talk about this," she thought. She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. The lack of sleep was quickly catching up to her. Her thoughts raced as her body slowed. She had no idea what to say to Mulder. Scully did not know whether she should reveal her "encounter" at the church. 

She wondered if this was (forgive the cliché) the straw that broke the camel's back. After all they had fought against together- flukemen, a modern Dr. Frankenstein, garbage monsters, flesh-eating insects, Mexican goat-suckers, aliens, and God knows what else. Would something as everyday as mortality and natural death be the end of their relationship? "I hope he's okay," Scully said. 

The shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. She wondered briefly whether she should pick up Mulder's phone. Who could it be? Frankly, she did not care. If Mulder asked her why she answered his phone, she would merely say she was waiting for him and hoped it was the Lone Gunmen. She picked it up on the third ring with a hesitant "Hello?" as she scrambled to pick up the Caller ID box, rotating it so that the light would hit it so that she could read the incoming caller's phone number. The batteries were dead.

*******************************************************************************

"Scully?" an equally hesitant voice replied.

She breathed the air she did not know she was holding in her lungs. "Where are you?"

"Uhm..at your apartment," Mulder fumbled.

"Well, I think we need to talk. Face to face," Scully said, her instinctive stiff telephone manner barely covering her discomfort.

Mulder did not reply.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, we do. I'll come over there."

"No, I'll come over to my apartment," Scully replied. "It won't take me that long."

"Okay. Be careful," Mulder said quietly.  


"I will."

"Bye, Scully."

"Bye, Mulder."

The tense situation either made Scully and Mulder forget their normal phone conversation-ending habits or resort to old, pre-FBI habits.

Scully arrived in thirty minutes. Since he had hung up the phone, Mulder had resumed his post in front of her entrance, smiling stupidly, fearfully, at the back of Scully's front door. As she opened the door, she jumped. "You scared me, I didn't know you'd be _right there_," Scully tried to cover her nervousness.

"Sorry."

They stood awkwardly for a moment, and then the both started towards Scully's couch simultaneously. Each sat at opposite sides of the couch. They were both silent for a moment.

"Mulder, I don't know where to begin," she whispered.

Mulder looked into her eyes. "I'm scared I'm losing you, Dana. We should be able to get through this."

Tears started pouring down Scully's face as she began to speak. Mulder reached for and held her hand in his own. She lowered her head, focusing on their hands rather than his face. "I don't understand what has happened. So many things have happened in the past few months, we haven't had time to catch up. I'm sorry for blowing up at you like that," she nervously glanced up to his face, "last night. I should never have said those things. They aren't true. I…I guess I was just angry and hurting and I wanted you to feel my pain. I know that's petty, and I'm sorry."

"Scully, Dana," Mulder searched out her eyes until they locked with his, "I know. I did the same thing to you. I guess I became bitter and resentful that…that you were shutting me out. I didn't realize that I was shutting you out as well, and my bitterness only made it worse."

Dana began to sob as Mulder enveloped her in his arms. "I….I've already…. lost my ….chance at mother-…hood. And…that hurt…a lot." She sighed and calmed herself down. "But what hurt the most. Was that I let you down." She paused. Her voice cracked as she continued, "I can't stand to disappoint you."

"No, no. You could never disappoint me."

They sat like that for a few minutes. "Never, Dana."

"Never," he repeated as he kissed her hair.

"I'm sorry I shut you out," she mumbled into his T-shirt.

"No more apologies. Everything's forgiven."

"Okay."

They were quiet. Scully mumbled something inaudible into his shirt.

"Hmm?"

"I love you, Mulder."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Are we gonna be okay?"

"I have no doubt."

XX THE END XX

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a/n: DONE!!! DONE, DONE, DONE!!!!!!! Well, I hope you liked it as much as I LOVED writing it!! Please review. And I wanna write a sequel, but only if you want one!!!


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